


A very Glee Christmas

by Jinxgirl



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxgirl/pseuds/Jinxgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrelated Christmas stories, various seasons, mostly post season 4. Mostly Kurtcheltana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A very Glee Christmas

A very Glee Christmas

Taking place various seasons. Some Kurtcheltana, possibly some Dantana, some Brittana, all or most will involve Santana

A is for Angel- season 5  
"Santana, this doesn't even properly fit me," Rachel complained as she tugged rather uselessly at the neckline of the rather long and loose-fitting white dress she was currently wearing, attempting to keep it from sagging down low enough to expose half her breasts. The dress's sleeves hung considerably past her wrists, fully covering her hands, no matter how many times she tried to roll them back, and its hem went far past her feet, even in high heel, so that she nearly tripped and had to hold it up with every step. It was obviously too long and too loose for her, and she frowned at Santana, almost pouting as she held up her dangling sleeves for emphasis. "Why am I wearing Brittany's dress when you are closer to Brittany's size in height and could at the very least have less of its material dragging the ground? Why can't I wear your dress, or at the very least why can't you allow Kurt to properly hem and bring this in for me?"

"Because Brittany might need it later and if you screwed it up just so it fits your hobbit-sized little body, she'll bust its seams trying to squeeze back in. Wear tall shoes and stuff your bra, Berry," was Santana's response, rolling her eyes, but even as she said this her lips twitched as she attempted to suppress a laugh at how ridiculous Rachel looked, practically swimming in the larger girl's clothes. "I'm wearing mine 'cause it's mine and everyone knows a body like this gots to have a dress that shows it off right."

"Santana, Brittany goes to MIT now, why would she ever again have need for an angel dress she wore for a Glee music video in the tenth grade?" Rachel attempted to reason with her, even as she glumly shook her sleeves, trying to force them back past her wrists. "And while we're on the subject, I am doing you a favor by agreeing to take part in a Christian-based Christmas play in a church, by the way, as you know I am Jewish and do not generally take part in any church-organized events of significant religious standing. You are quite lucky in fact that I was going to go home with my dads for the weekend as it is and that we had no major plans for Christmas Eve evening because normally I would not have been able to participate, particularly at such short notice, and considering that I will have no lines or solos-"

"Rachel, you know your voice is gonna boom out over everyone else's in the choir and you're gonna make sure of it, just so everyone will point you out after and demand to know who the little white girl is and why she didn't get all the spotlight," Santana rolled her eyes even as she relented slightly, coming over to Rachel and rolling up her sleeves for her. "Get some safety pins or something….you know damn well I don't want to do this Christmas choir thing either but Mami guilted me into it and I don't want to stand up there with all the teenybopper shiny-faced kids like the black sheep prodigal daughter and get church hymnals thrown at me halfway through. If I'm gonna get the stares for daring to be a lesbian dressed like an angel and singing about God in church, at the very least I'm gonna make sure someone else gets the hate too, 'cause they probably think being a Jewish angel is just as bad."

"I understand and appreciate your desire for moral support, Santana-"

"It is not MORAL SUPPORT, it's mutual stoning-"

"But nevertheless, if I am to participate, I do wish you would at least insure that I will be able to wear clothing that at least reasonably fits me," Rachel concluded firmly, setting her jaw and looking Santana in the eye. "Because currently I am afraid that any undivided attention I receive will not be for my voice or because I am Caucasian or even because I am Jewish. I suspect that people will simply stare at me because I will trip over this dress and fall onto my face in front of everyone."

"And we all know your nose would be the first thing to break, it's a pretty large target," was Santana's thoughtful comment, even as Rachel narrowed her eyes at her. Taking her by the arm, she started to tug her towards the secretary's office of the church, sighing. "Okay, Berry, help me find a stapler and safety pins, and don't gesture a lot on stage…"

Chapter 2: Chapter 2  
B is for Bows

(Season 3)

Santana sat still, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips as she focused her eyes ahead, careful not to move her head or squirm and thus to distract or mess up the efforts of the girl seated closely behind her. She enjoyed the feeling of gentle, nimble fingers in her hair, deftly crossing dark strands over each other in tight braids, and although she knew very well that the result would undoubtedly look completely ridiculous, she also knew that she would never say so and risk hurting the other girl's feelings. Santana had no problem and in fact derived much satisfaction and amusement from mocking every person in her life and even people she didn't actually know, but with Brittany, it was different. Brittany neither deserved nor would even always understand the cruel undertone to Santana's teasing, and she would never dream of directing it towards her.

Brittany was special, Brittany was the one person who could escape Santana's claws, and consequently, Brittany was the only person who Santana would ever allow to draw close, the only person she would ever go to for comfort, and above all, the only person she would ever let make her look as completely silly as she undoubtedly did now, and still fully enjoy it.

"There!" Brittany announced proudly after a few more moments, and she lightly smoothed her hand over the top of Santana's head, then hugged her from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. Santana could hear the beaming in her voice even though she couldn't see her face, and she automatically covered Brittany's hands with her own, squeezing their backs. "All finished, San…you look so cute!"

Santana highly doubted this, but she smiled all the same, genuinely pleased at Brittany's pleasure if nothing else. Turning her head, she kissed Brittany's cheek, then her lips softly before leaning back into her girlfriend's arms, still smiling.

"Show me, baby. You have a mirror?"

Brittany fished in her purse for a compact and held it at an angle where Santana could see herself, her blue eyes bright with satisfaction as she watched Santana's reaction. Santana blinked, her lips quirking again, and she had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing as she looked back at her reflection. Brittany had taken every last decorative bow she could find, which were meant to decorate Christmas trees and wreaths, gifts and gift bags, rather than a person's hair, and wove them into Santana's hair through multiple braids. Santana's head looked like it had exploded in a mass of Christmas bows; she resembled one of the little Who children on the Grinch movies, or maybe just an overly jolly elf. It took considerable willpower for her not to burst out laughing or just to pull the bows straight out of her hair, but for Brittany, she didn't. For Brittany, she would have walked out in public like that with her head held high, glaring at anyone who dared to look at her like she appeared anything less than normal in appearance.

"This is awesome, baby," she told her, reaching up to finger one of the bows, and then she turned back towards Brittany and reached for her face, cupping her cheek and chin in one hand as she smiled back at her softly. "You're amazing."

"I know," Brittany nodded, no hint of sarcasm or teasing in her voice at all, and this made Santana smile more. Her girl definitely had no self-esteem issues, as she rightfully shouldn't. "You look so cute, San. We should go show you off. Let's go Christmas shopping!"

And Santana couldn't say no. Time to put her tried and tested glare to the test all over again, because one thing she wasn't letting happen, no way, no how, was anyone laughing at her girl's hair creation, even if it was on Santana's head.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3  
C is for Caroling

"What the hell," was Santana's deadpan reaction as the chorus of voices rose still louder outside their apartment door, and she slowly lifted her hands towards her ears, covering them, even as she spoke with increasing volume herself. "Is someone being scalded out there?"

"I think that must be people…singing? Or attempting to?" Kurt responded, his eyes shifting uneasily towards the door, and he flinched too at a particularly painful high note that was not at all in tune. Grimacing automatically, he looked back at Santana's hunched form at the counter, where she was bent over with her hands still covering her ears, as he half shouted to be heard over the noise outside the door and her own blocked ears. "I think it must be carolers…I had no idea people literally did that in New York City!"

"Get a pan of hot water and throw it on them," was Santana's immediate decision as she barely looked up towards him, also nearly shouting back at him in reply. "What the hell, people, this is New York, we don't do friendly gestures of good will around here, this is a friggin' assault! Unless…Rachel, tell me you didn't invite this crew! Tell me this isn't a group of your vocally delusional drama pals or worse yet, the newbies in New Directions coming up to spread some Christmas fear!"

"No, no, I didn't ask anyone over, although now that you mention it, Santana, it WOULD be very nice if the Glee club from Lima could-" Rachel began to muse, the distress that had been tightly etched across her face at the painful singing outside the door fading as she began to muse aloud, but Santana almost immediately shut her down.

"You didn't invite them? Great. Because either way I was getting rid of them, and you'll be pouting less about it if they're not your friends."

Stalking towards the door, still covering her ears with both hands, she threw it open and began to holler over the cheerfully dressed, earnestly "singing" group, hands still clamped over her ears. "HEY TONE DEAF TRIO, YOU'RE TRESPASSING ON THE ONE TIME OF THE DAY I DON'T HAVE TO HEAR RACHEL BERRY TRILLING ALL OVER THE HOUSE AND YOU'RE RAPIDLY SHREDDING MY EARDRUMS ALONG WITH MY SANITY!"

"Santana!" Kurt exclaimed, but he wasn't too loud about it; he wanted them to go as much as she did, though his preferred way to ask them to go would have been more tactful. Exhaling, he came up behind Santana in the doorway and gave the now-quiet and somewhat taken aback group a small, embarrassed smile, even as he covered Santana's hands with his, dragged them off of her ears, and pulled her back out of the doorway a little. "Sorry, guys, she's a little cranky without her coffee… or…always…but um, we really would appreciate if you could continue on to another apartment, or…building…thank you, but,"

"Wait, Kurt, Santana," Rachel piped up from behind them both, and as both her roommates turned their heads, looking back towards her, she moved past them into the carolers' view, smiling at them. "There is no need to be so rude, nor so hasty. They are simply showing the spirit of the season, and although I myself am Jewish, I am still unopposed to any activities that show good will and good cheer and of course, musical talent."

"MUSICAL TALENT?! Would you ever pair that particular phrase with THIS crew?!" Santana exclaimed, gesturing pointedly towards the hapless group before them, and as Kurt attempted both to give her a reproving look and to hide his own instinctive smirk, Rachel shook her head at her, admonishing.

"Santana, there is no need to be so rude. They were…well, they were doing their best, and I'm sure with some careful guidance, much practice, and considerably less sharp notes…well…perhaps if you all sang at a much softer volume, and had a leader to sort of…well…compliment and embellish your voices…in fact…"

And then Rachel disappeared for a few moments, leaving her roommates still standing with the seemingly dumbfounded carolers in the doorway. Santana was already reaching for the doorknob, ready to shut the door in their faces, when she reemerged wearing her heavy coat and earmuffs, gloves in hand, Santana's and Kurt's coats draped over one arm. She threw them both their clothing items so they had no choice but to catch them, then linked her arms through both of theirs as she attempted to propel them forward.

"We'll join you," she announced brightly, smiling first at the carolers, then at Kurt and Santana. "You see, the three of us are very musically experienced, in fact we have won Nationals in our Glee club, and I am a rising Broadway star while Kurt here attends NYADA, and Santana is currently drifting musically but she is also quite talented and will undoubtedly find her niche soon. We will join you and improve your efforts dramatically."

"Rachel…what are you doing?" Kurt hissed under his breath even as Rachel dragged them both forward, with surprising strength and determination. Santana's protest was more adamant as she attempted to dig in her heels, not even bothering to lower her voice.

"What the hell, Berry, there is no way I'm joining the rejects from the old geezer choir auditions. No way, what the hell is wrong with you, you not only can't send them the hell away, you JOIN THEM?!"

"Look at it like this, guys," Rachel insisted sotto voce, still pulling them forward, smiling even as she spoke out the corner of her mouth. "Everyone will look at and hear us, and they will all become very familiar with our talent. People talk, word spreads, networking…it could happen. The more people who are aware of our talent, the better chances of our eventual success there will be. This is free advertising and frankly I'm disappointed I didn't think of it myself."

And on that note, her roommates couldn't argue, and it was with no less enthusiasm but less grumbling, even on Santana's part, that they continued on their way.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4  
D is for Drummer Boy

"Hummel, you have to," Santana insisted, rolling her eyes and shifting her weight to one hip as she adjusted the wings sticking out the back of her gown, attempting to make them stick out more fully. "You're the only one who can actually both play the drums and pull off the look."

"There are no iron clad, written in stone rules saying that anyone who is singing or playing that solo HAS to look like anything," Kurt maintained, his voice tight, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as though afraid that Santana might attempt to pull his shirt off without his permission. And given the conversation at hand, it wasn't an unrealistic fear. "I'm not doing it, Santana. Period."

"Kurt, you would look fine, you would look good, even. Aren't you happy with your body?" Rachel attempted to reason with him, absently reaching up to touch her slightly wobbling halo as she moved closer.

Kurt shook his head vehemently, putting up both hands in front of him, as though to stop her coming any closer. "I'm more than happy with my body, Rachel, that doesn't mean that everyone in the venue will get to see it. I don't do half clothed performances, and I certainly don't do them dressed in THAT. What is that, a stained dish towel?!"

"It's supposed to be a loincloth, sorry if we don't have a historical artifact from the ages of Christ's birth for you to cover your man jewels with," Santana rolled her eyes, shaking her head back at him in exasperation. "Just put it on and drum your bum, Hummel. Everyone's gonna be too busy trying to see the outline of my bra to look at your man nipples anyway."

"Really, Kurt, it wont' be so-" Rachel started, but Kurt spoke over them both, almost shouting.

"I am NOT wearing nothing but a TOWEL to perform "The Little Drummer Boy" for the band's first and probably ONLY Christmas concert!"

Seeing how insistent he was, Santana rolled her eyes again, and Rachel sighed, defeated.

"Fine…I still think it would have been really cute, though…"

Chapter 5: Chapter 5  
E is for Elf

"Santana…is that…is that the dress they gave you for…"

Rachel's worlds trailed off as she stared at her roommate, having just emerged from behind her curtain in the outfit that she had supposedly been given as her costume. They had been very lucky that someone in the department store had heard about Pamela Lansbury and decided not only to seek them out to ask them to give a performance, but also to pay them for it. It was amazing publicity for them and would undoubtedly insure that a good portion of New York City's holiday shoppers, which would not be small in number, would hear and see them and possibly remember them for future performances.

Of course, the downside to this was that they were required by the store to dress in goofy elf costumes and to sing only ridiculous Christmas songs like "Here Comes Santa Claus" and "The Chipmunk Christmas Song," but as Rachel had repeatedly pointed out to the less than enthused Santana, this was nevertheless good coverage for them as a band, and they could only work their way up from there. Santana had pointed out that this was not necessarily the case; considering how many young children would see them, singing while standing near Santa Claus, they might in fact be remembered only by parents who wanted to book entertainment for children's birthday parties, and they might be requested to sing everything from nursery rhymes to the Barney song. Even if this were the case, though, Santana had a feeling that Rachel would still find a way to spin a positive out of it.

But right now, Rachel seemed to be having rare difficulty finding words, and as she blinked, looking Santana up and down slowly, she actually lifted a finger and pointed towards her before attempting to speak again.

"Santana…I am fairly certain that this is not the way your dress looked…."

"Well, yeah, there was no way in hell I was wearing that puffy ridiculous tutu skirt thing," Santana rolled her eyes, smoothing her hands over her hips, and the very snugly fitting material now smoothed over them. "If I turned too fast it would flare up and hit me in the eye, and probably whatever small child was standing nearby too. They really ought to consider safety hazards when making these things. Not to mention, it totally hides my ass, which is considered by many to be one of my best features, and of course, it makes me and anyone else who happens to be wearing it completely ridiculous," she added as she deliberately looked Rachel, who happened to be wearing the exact costume that she was dissing, up and down as though for emphasis. "Also, there is no way I'm wearing an identical outfit to you, ever. I don't care how hot it is, I don't do carbon copies. I did Cheerios uniform for four years and that shit is over now."

"But Santana…that dress didn't belong to you, it belonged to the store!" Rachel pointed out, her voice rising slightly as she waved both hands towards the dress, as though this would somehow get through to the other girl. "You can't just rip pieces off of it and…and cut the hemline and…"

"Make it way better than it was before? Don't worry, Rachel, when they see it on me they'll probably pay me a bonus and ask me to cut up yours too," Santana's lips quirked at one corner. "Don't be jealous, I could fix yours up for you too. Only not the same way 'cause I'm gonna be an original, let's get that straight right now."

"But…Santana, it's so short, and….and tight, and…are you sure it's quite appropriate to wear out in public, where…where people will look, and…" Rachel couldn't seem to take her eyes off Santana, her eyes seeming to especially have difficulty lifting off her breasts and hips, as Santana rolled her eyes again, putting one hand on her hip and shifting her weight more heavily towards that side.

"That's the point, Rachel. I guarantee people will remember me in this thing way more than they're gonna remember you in your puffy disaster. You talk about publicity, might as well help ourselves along as much as we possibly can. They ain't gonna have any problem forgetting THIS."

As Kurt, having taken considerably longer to dress himself in his own elf costume, emerged from behind his own bedroom area, his eyes skipped past Rachel, barely acknowledging her, before settling straight on Santana, and he too widened his eyes, looking her skimpy attire up and down before commenting. "Um…that's not the same dress as-"

"See!" Santana exclaimed, triumphant, as she pointed a finger at Kurt as though to prove her point. "Even the gay guy stops and takes notice. This is gonna make us famous, you wait and see!"

As she drifted towards the bathroom, seemingly to check her reflection in the mirror, Kurt leaned closer to Rachel, muttering towards her ear," One of us should stand behind her at all times and make sure she's not mooning the world if she moves wrong, because that is NOT the way I want to be noticed and remembered."

"You get ass duty, I get breasts," Rachel whispered back, every bit as intent. "Because I see a potential for disaster in that regard as well…"

Chapter 6: Chapter 6  
F is for Family

If anyone ever actually figured out, or at least pointed out to her, just how sentimental she actually was, Santana would have been mortified.

It's not like she would be the only one. Kurt seemed to hang onto every memory of his mother with something close to worship, and his annual holiday traditions with his father seemed to be carved in stone, with nothing getting in the way of carrying them out. Rachel was even worse; she seemed to have a certain and very explicitly detailed way of doing every little thing for both Hannukah and Christmas, from the exact layout of decorations to the precise recitation of certain prayers or rituals, and her fathers seemed to have been very big on making sure that she continued them on with or without their presence. Rachel in particular seemed determined that others do her rituals her way and at least grin and bear it, if not enjoy it, but clearly she got something out of doing so. Outwardly Santana scoffed and mocked their practices, but secretly, she held back, wistful for her own.

She missed the Christmases when she was a little girl and even a teenager, where she had been allowed by her mother to decorate the entire tree with very little supervision, even if it did mean that her mother would have to go back behind her and redistribute ornaments so they weren't all on the bottom on one side. She missed being taken to pick out a Christmas dress by her abuela even if she did get barked at through most of the trip, and she missed taking Christmas pictures that her abuela would hiss through out of the camera's frame, threatening slaps or pinches if she didn't smile. She missed being told about Santa Claus by her mother and dark elves who would spank her and leave her coal by her abuela, and she even missed going to church Christmas morning before she would be allowed to go home and open her gifts. She missed the feeling that for at least one day of the year, she could expect that both her parents and her abuela too would all be there with her, paying attention to her and reasonably pleasant with each other, and she really missed knowing that now, this would likely never happen again.

She would go home for Christmas, of course, but this year it would be different, for all of them. This year Kurt would go home with his house clearly altered and empty, without Finn being part of his new family rituals. Rachel too would feel his absence, and Santana would, for the second year in a row, come home to what would probably only be her and her mother. No abuela, and likely not her father either, as last year he had chosen to work on Christmas rather than have to choose sides between spending Christmas with his mother or with his daughter and his wife.

It would be a sadder Christmas, a more sober Christmas, than any of them were accustomed to, and though none of them spoke of this aloud, it was clear as it grew closer to the time they would all leave for Lima that none of them really wanted to go, until the night before they were scheduled to head off.

Even then, it was nothing they spoke about. It was just that when Santana found Kurt slumped on the couch, his head in his hands, she sat beside him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder, until she felt his arm circle her shoulders and pulling her against his side. When Rachel knelt in front of them a few moments later, wrapping her arms around them both and resting her head in Santana's lap, it was decided without them needing to say it that at the very least, they would all drive down in the same vehicle.

Their families would never be the same, but they had formed their own among themselves; it couldn't replace what they had had, but it could, perhaps, make new grounds for nostalgia.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7  
G is for Gingerbread

"Everyone does it, Britt-Britt," Santana attempted to reason, though she knew very well by now that sometimes, logic, reasoning, and Brittany Pierce didn't coexist comfortably within the same realm. "It's okay, I swear. Can't you just try it?"

"Everyone also is in denial over Lord Tubbington's addictions, and it's because they all look the other way that he's so hopelessly ensnared now," was Brittany's firm and all too serious response as she shook her head, folding her arms over her chest for an added measure of stern refusal to Santana's request. "I'm standing my ground, Santana. I won't join the crowd. Aren't we all supposed to stand up for what we believe in and also not bully others for their beliefs?"

"But this is different, Britt, if you'd just TRY it-" Santana held the offending item out towards the other girl, who immediately stepped back, shaking her head.

"No it isn't, San, it's not different at all. It's exactly the same. It's wrong and I won't be a part of such brutality."

"Brutality- Brittany, it's not brutal, it's what the things are HERE for. It's the entire reason that they exist. They are made exactly for the purpose of people taking them and-"

"That doesn't make it right, Santana," Brittany said solemnly, still shaking her head, though more slowly now. Her blue eyes were large, sad, and serious as she regarded her girlfriend, and Santana cringed when she saw that they also held disappointment- disappointment in HER. Brittany knew she was a sucker for Brittany's disappointed look, so why did she have to look at her like that now, over something like this?

"Please just try it, Britt," Santana tried one last time, but already she was beginning to concede defeat, resigning herself to the inevitable. "Or at least let me without looking at me like that? You always talk about not judging, and, uh…"

"Santana, you're still pressuring me to do something I don't want to do that is very much against my beliefs," Brittany interrupted her, and there was a bit of an edge to her tone now, which for Brittany, was rare enough that Santana knew she was very, very serious about this. "That is bullying. I really wish you wouldn't bully me because you're supposed to love and support me. Please don't be a bully towards me, it makes me really sad."

And what could Santana say against that? How could she argue against that? Brittany must have known it too, because when Santana sighed, giving in, she gave her a small smile and reached out to squeeze her hand, nodding acceptance even before Santana apologized.

"Fine…sorry, baby. I won't."

"Thank you, Santana, I'm glad you've seen the error of your ways," Brittany nodded, still rubbing her thumb over the back of Santana's hand. "I know we can find you other cookies that are equally delicious that are not also small people with feelings."

And that was just one of the many things that went along with being Brittany's girlfriend…who else would be banned from eating gingerbread cookies at Christmas season, because their girlfriend's vehement belief that they were actual people who would feel every single munch?

Chapter 8: Chapter 8  
H is for Heat

"Don't say it," Kurt mumbled as he stared at the controls for the apartment's heat and air conditioning, pressing uselessly at the button that should have caused the apartment's temperature to rise, but which was currently stuck on the rather uncomfortable temperature of 43 degrees- and steadily dropping. "Don't even say it…"

"Why the hell not? It's obviously true, isn't it?" Santana demanded from where she stood approximately four inches back from him, peering over his shoulder as she shifted her leg from one foot to the other in a semi hop, rubbing both hands over her arms in an attempt to warm up, even though she was wearing a coat. Both were visibly blowing out their breath each time they spoke, and Kurt shivered anew as he felt her breath hit the back of his currently bare neck. "Denial ain't gonna do shit to fix anything, it's OBVIOUSLY not working, seeing as my nipples could currently double as icepicks and there are basically icicles forming in my hair!"

"To match the ice water already in your veins?" Kurt muttered under his breath, but if Santana heard him, she didn't have time to respond, because Rachel's anxious voice was already piping up over his as he started to speak.

"It's really BROKEN? It's not just stuck, or…it's BROKEN?!"

"Well, it's not working, and pressing the buttons a thousand times doesn't seem to be unsticking anything, so…" Kurt turned his head back towards her, giving a helpless shrug. He was still shivering himself, and from under the scarf, coat, blanket, gloves, and knit hat that Rachel had already smothered herself in, he could see that she was regardless still shivering too, automatically stepping closer to Santana and pressing her shoulder into the other girl's.

"But it's the day before Christmas! Who's going to come out and fix it the day before CHRISTMAS?!" Rachel's voice rose still more shrilly, starting to carry a note approaching hysteria as she waved her hands around beneath her blanket. Santana too raised her voice, fumbling with slightly shaking hands inside her coat pocket for her cell phone as she punched in a number for the tenth time, swearing in frustration when the line rang without response.

"Fucking landlord, I swear, if he fucking cut off our heat somehow to save himself bills over the holidays…!"

"Someone will," Kurt said without much conviction even as he turned and took hold of Santana's wrist, as she had lifted it as though in preparation to throw her phone across the room. "Santana, give me that, I'll call heating and air companies and see who might come…no doubt we'll have to pay a ridiculously high price for whoever comes out, but…well, I guess we'll cross that bridge then…"

"But Kurt, we can't afford to pay a ridiculously high price!" Rachel's concern mounted still higher, although she made no move to move her hands from beneath the blanket to touch him. "We can barely afford to pay rent this month, let alone pay for a service which should have already been covered and paid for! It should already be ours to possess, paying for it again and over the price of what it should legitimately be is just wrong and….and…"

Then her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted towards Santana, new suspicion dawning. "It DID get paid for, didn't it? Last month's heating bill?"

As Kurt's eyes joined hers in looking at Santana, whose responsibility it had been to take care of that particular bill, the angry expression on her face quickly shifted to one of dawning horror, then guilt, then defensiveness, and she backed away, putting up both hands as though to ward off attack.

"Right…I may have forgotten that…"

"You MAY have FORGOTTEN to pay for our HEAT for the month of DECEMBER in NEW YORK CITY?!" Rachel's voice rose to an impressively high and loud octave at that, and Kurt too started to join her in a tirade before cutting himself off, shaking his head.

"Santana…Santana, how the hell could you POSSIBLY…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I forgot, okay? I won't again, believe me!"

"But Santana, it's COLD, and it's CHRISTMAS, we could freeze to death out here on Christmas morning and how would THAT be for a very bad tale straight out of the Dickens times, who literally freezes to death in their own apartment, it would be a tragedy and I for one am NOT ready to be cut down in my prime before I even make it big enough that everyone will properly regard it as the true tragedy that it would be-"

"Rachel, get off my back, I said I was sorry, if you don't shut up I swear I'll be the one cutting you down and you won't have to worry about the cold-"

"Both of you, SHUT UP NOW!" Kurt nearly screamed, and this was rare enough from him that both girls actually did stop and look at him, startled. He exhaled another visible puff of breath, then gestured towards the couch, directing them.

"Both of you, go get all the blankets in the place and huddle up together under them on the couch, I don't care how much you hate each other right now, we'll need the heat. I'll join you in a minute, I'm calling companies to fix this, and if either of you say one word while I'm on the phone you're outside the blanket warmth pile."

And although both were glaring as they began to gather blankets, neither contradicted him. With the heat in the house now dropping below 40, even cuddling up to someone they were pissed off at currently beat his threatened option.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9  
I is for Immaculate Conception

"You aren't serious," Kurt's eyebrows rose almost to his forehead, and his mouth dropped open as he stared at her, an almost comical expression somewhere between surprise and intense amusement stricken across his features. "You're completely making this up. The irony is much too extreme for you to be telling the truth."

"Believe me, I was telling myself the same damn thing," Santana rolled her eyes as she slumped back against the cushions of their living room couch, putting one foot up on the coffee table and ignoring the pointed stare Kurt gave it in his unspoken request for her to move it back to the floor. "You think I WANTED to do it?"

"Actually, yes. I think you would have thought it was hysterical and orchestrated any way you possibly could to make it happen…you didn't go Tonya Harding on the original girl to set it in motion, did you?" Kurt appeared to be seriously considering this possibility as he narrowed his eyes slightly at her, and Rachel gasped, her eyes even wider than his as she shook her head at him.

"Kurt! What a thing to say! Of course she didn't…right?" she had to ask for confirmation, which Santana gave someone begrudgingly, rolling her eyes again with a loud, exasperated sigh.

"No, she was klutzy enough all on her own. She tripped over the manger an hour before the thing was supposed to start and broke her arm, I wasn't even in the room. If I wanted her laid up in a traction I would have used a more exciting method, like making the ceiling collapse on her or something just when they get to the part about how holy and pure she is. Now that would be hysterical, an unspoken smiting from God plotted in."

"So you're really serious," Kurt confirmed, his lips twitching badly as he suppressed laughter. "You actually…"

"She said she did, didn't she?" Rachel interrupted him; unlike Kurt, she didn't seem to think that Santana's story was a surprise at all. "I don't understand why you think it is so amusing, Kurt. Santana is a skilled performer, as we both saw in West Side Story, and she's a very attractive girl, she would undoubtedly very much look the part of a holy figure such as that. And her voice is amazing, I bet she brought the entire place to tears singing "Silent Night" a capello as she described. And if she had no role and only the one song to sing, there would be little to memorize given that she had never been part of rehearsal, it only makes sense that they would have chosen her, I would have done the same."

"Rachel…let's review," Kurt said slowly, somewhat disbelievingly. "The very conservative Catholic church…the ones who are basically against the existence and personal lives of literally every single person who ever joined the Glee club…recruited SANTANA LOPEZ to play the role of the virgin Mary. Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus. Widely regarded by those who believe in all of that as the most pure and holy woman of all time. Recruited SANTANA LOPEZ."

"It's just playing a part, Kurt…what's so strange about that?" Rachel still appeared not to appreciate this irony. "I have played many characters who certainly were not much like me in behaviors or even appearance, that is all part of being an actress of skill, you simply have to look within yourself to discover who the character is-"

"We know who the character is, Rachel, because everyone's been talking about how perfect she is for 2000 years," Santana snickered, reaching to affectionately pat Rachel's arm nevertheless. Although she couldn't have said so, she did appreciate that Rachel seemed to see absolutely nothing strange or funny about her playing the role of a holy woman; it said a lot to her about how well Rachel regarded her now, or at least her talent. "But let's review. Me: lesbian. Me: Slept with half the boys in our graduating class. Me: Has not been to church without being dragged for about 2 years. Me: Got wasted off your special eggnog two days before Christmas to the point I couldn't get up to go to bed. Me: Literally watched my abuela and several other relatives get a frozen look of horror and on their faces and start crossing themselves and even going so far as to walk out the second they saw me walking down the aisle in a blue robe carrying an ugly baby doll. Me: Ex stripper. Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus Christ: title says it all. Let's just say I'm shocked it didn't turn into a group stoning."

"But Santana, none of that matters," Rachel insisted, her tone as earnest as her expression as she turned fully towards her roommate, making sure she was looking her in the eye. "None of that really has anything to do with anything…those things are just things you do. Not who you are."

And when Santana thought about it, looking back at her, she wasn't sure she quite believed there was a difference, at least enough of one to justify her playing the Virgin Mary even for one night, but she had to appreciate that Rachel thought so. And when she looked over at Kurt, even he no longer seemed to have a smart comment.

She wanted to thank her, to let her know that what she said meant something to her, that she appreciated it. That she appreciated her. But instead she just smiled, lightly nudged her shoulder into Rachel's, and what came out instead was more typical commentary.

"You're just saying that 'cause you hope I'll put in a word for you to be head angel next year or something, hoping we'll refrain from mentioning all the irony of that."

"Well, I would certainly fit the part better than either you or Kurt," was Rachel's prompt response, even as she nudged Santana back and gave her a playful smile. "It's one thing to give you a robe; a halo would simply be too much."

Chapter 10: Chapter 10  
J is for Jolly

Sure, Christmas season was supposed to be about love and peace and joy and good will to mankind and all the rest of those things that Santana found not only very difficult to actually follow through with, even when she was genuinely trying. Most of the time she did want those things in her life, and did want to show them in her character. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes she didn't. But Rachel Berry and her ideas of how and most especially WHEN to show Christmas spirit was entirely too much for her to swallow sometimes.

Especially when she decided to blast Christmas music while on her elliptical, first thing in the morning on a Saturday, while singing along the entire time.

"BERRY!" Santana nearly screeched from behind her curtain, not bothering to remove her pillow from off of her head to do so. "If you don't shut the hell up and shut that shit off right now, I swear I'll go deck your halls myself straight into New Year!"

"That doesn't even make any sense, Santana," was Rachel's reasonable reply, called out loudly over the sound of "Feliz Navidad," aka one of the top five most annoying Christmas songs of all time- and the one Rachel seemed to think that Santana most liked, simply by the fact that she was Hispanic. "Even if you were to hit me very hard, you would never cause me to travel forward in time by the force of your blow, and truly, I have never seen you really cause considerable damage or even many bruises when you hit, generally when you're that angry someone comes to hold you back before-"

"AIN'T NO ONE GONNA HOLD ME BACK NOW, BERRY, RIGHT, HUMMEL?" she hollered back, and when she heard a sleepy affirmative from Kurt, she even went so far as to sit up in her bed. "I'm giving you five seconds to throw out the jolly. Five, four, three-"

As she heard the music shut off, and Rachel calling out something about someone being a Grinch, Santana buried her face back beneath her pillow, picturing Rachel being buried under an avalanche of Christmas trees. Would totally serve her right. Was it possible to at least make an arrangement for her to be smothered with wrapping paper in her sleep tonight?

Chapter 11: Chapter 11  
K is for Keeping Secrets

"Santana, what are you doing?"

Santana jumped slightly at the loud and rather sudden voice located approximately a foot away from her ear, jerking her hands out of the dresser drawer they were currently rooting through and but not bothering to shut the drawer as she turned around, meeting the eyes of a rather irritated-looking Kurt just behind her. As he crossed both his arms over his chest, staring her down with a look that was much more amusing to her than intimidating, she shrugged, her voice and expression casual as she replied.

"Looking through your shit, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Santana, we've had this conversation," Kurt reminded her, the exasperation in his voice clear as it also slightly increased in volume. His cheeks, she noticed, were slightly red, and she regarded him more closely, wondering to herself whether this was due to anger or embarrassment. She hadn't seen anything too incriminating in his belongings yet, but that didn't mean that nothing existed. "A lot. We all agreed that going through each other's personal belongings was rude, invasive, and completely unnecessary, and that we would stay out of each other's stuff and give each other the maximum personal space that is damn near impossible to get in this tiny apartment. We agreed, so what are you doing going through my drawers?"

"Actually, you and Rachel agreed and I stood there and nodded occasionally without actually saying a word," Santana reminded him, her lips curving into a smirk as she watched the realization dawn in his eyes. "I didn't actually make any such agreement. And anyway, these are special circumstances for a special time of the year…all privacy bets are off in the last two weeks before Christmas. How the hell else am I supposed to get any hints on what you're getting me?"

"Santana!" Kurt almost sputtered, his eyes widening further as she started to ease the drawer beneath the currently open one open as well, and he hurried forward, snatched her hand off its knob, and slammed it closed, moving to stand in front of it. "If anything, Christmas should be a time where everyone has MORE privacy! Why would you want to ruin a surprise for yourself like that?"

"So if whatever you're getting me really sucks, I can let you know so you still have lots of time to take it back, and a lot more input on my part on what I'd actually want," Santana replied nonchalantly, leaning back against the other half of the dresser and eyeing Kurt's side with renewed interest. "If you want I can just give you a list now and save time and effort on your part. Unless you already got me something, then you can just show me and I can give the red or green light and all my searching efforts can be over with."

"No! No way, that's not what Christmas is about and that's not how we're doing it here!" Kurt insisted, shaking his head and recrossing his arms over his chest with his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling simultaneously. "You get what you get and if you don't want it, you go to the trouble of taking it back. And anyway, Santana, I haven't actually gotten you anything yet, so there's no point in you tearing my room apart searching. Instead of looking for gifts for yourself, why don't you put all that effort into getting gifts for Rachel and me?"

"Nah, there's still two weeks until Christmas, that's a task for Christmas Eve," was Santana's tossed off response as she peeled herself back from the dresser, slowly straightening and stretching her arms over her head briefllyas she walked towards Kurt's curtain. "Fine, if you don't have anything, I bet Rachel the Complete Over Achiever does…AND she's not home right now. So you gots two options. You can try to stop me from looking, which would involve physical restraint that you're not capable of maintaining and would probably cause you to end up with a black eye, you can look the other way and profess ignorance, or you could join me, 'cause if she's got a gift for me, she's totally got a gift for you too. Sooo which is it, Hummel?"

Presented in that fashion, Kurt had to admit that there was only one response that really interested him. For a few moments he stood there, trying to fight his temptation, but as he looked back at the smirking Santana, he could resist no more. Blushing slightly and ducking his head, he moved to follow her towards Rachel's curtain, even as he held up a warning hand.

"Don't you dare say anything to her. You know and saw nothing."

"Likewise," Santana smiled as she held the curtain back for him, ushering him through.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12  
L is for Lights

"Rachel….how exactly did you manage this?" Kurt asked in complete disbelief, blinking repeatedly as he stared at the girl standing rigidly in front of him, literally unable to move for fear of losing her balance and toppling to the floor. "I mean…no, I think the first question covers it. How?"

Santana's response was considerably less wordy. She simply took one look at her roommate and burst out laughing, eyes almost shut and body nearly doubled over with mirth, and she didn't even attempt to stop herself. Pointing at Rachel, she managed to gasp out after a minute or so, "What…was there an…attempted Christmas robbery?!"

"Very funny, both of you, please do continue to make a mockery of my efforts," Rachel said stiffly, and the pouty expression on her face only made Santana's laughter start anew. "If either one of you had helped me more consistently then it wouldn't be a problem, and this certainly wouldn't have happened. But because both of you were not helping me and were much too busy doing alternate activities-"

"Rachel…just…how in the world did this happen?" even Kurt couldn't hold back a laugh this time, and Santana was still snickering into her hands, even wiping at tears of her amusement. He came forward to help her, but then stopped, circling around her on all sides as he attempted to figure out how, exactly, to begin to do so.

"I was attempting to put lights on the Christmas tree, as should be well obvious," was Rachel's overly dignified response as she lifted her chin, but her dignity was rather badly diminished by the fact that she had to remain perfectly still and could use no other bodily gestures. "And I thought that it would be possible to string lights alone the mantle as well and that I could have them connected to the Christmas tree in one large strand, and as it turned out I was simply not accurate in this assumption. I turned into the lights and as I was attempting to remove several from being caught in my hair I suppose I…simply kept turning the wrong direction, and before I knew it…"

"You were tied up totally in Christmas tree lights like a kidnap victim?!" Santana blurted before breaking out in laughter all over again, still making no move whatsoever to step forward to help. As Rachel glared in her direction, reiterating, "You could at least help now since you wouldn't THEN!", Kurt's lips twitched too even as he walked around Rachel in a circle, attempting to find the end of the string to begin unraveling.

"I guess I could just cut through them with scissors…"

"No, we still have to use them for décor, and you could short a circuit or electrocute yourself or something…no, just find the end, it has to be tucked in somewhere…Santana, could you HELP him?" Rachel snapped towards the still snickering girl, but rather than obeying, Santana left the room, her back still shaking with laughter. Rachel huffed indignantly, rolling her eyes as she complained, "That is so typical. She just walks away, leaving us both here to do this by ourselves-"

But her words took on an entirely different tone as Santana emerged with her camera in hand, coming close and starting to snap pictures. As Rachel's eyes widened and she started to squeal Santana's name, unable to move or put up her hands to block her face, Santana's camera flashed away, even as Santana announced, "I think I just found my new Facebook cover pic! Merrrrry Christmas!"

Chapter 13: Chapter 13  
M is for Mistletoe

"Rachel…really? Is that REALLY necessary?" Kurt gestured towards the greenery that the girl was busily fixating over the kitchen sink area, balancing precariously on a stool to do so. She had already done the same over the doorway to their apartment, and as Kurt stood back with crossed arms, watching her, his eyebrows knitted together into a furrowed line of what seemed to be genuine concern.

"Of course it is not necessary, there is not a very long list of things in life that are fully and truthfully necessary," was Rachel's dismissive reply as she continued to concentrate on carefully thumb-tacking the plant exactly as she wanted it. "But Kurt, surely you understand that if not necessary, it is rather traditional. Of course, being Jewish, I do not usually decorate or celebrate the spirit of Christmas within my own home, I usually reserve this for gatherings of friends and of course, Glee club events at school in the past. However, as I am now living with you and Santana, who both do celebrate Christmas each year, and I believe Santana may even have some sort of spiritual tendencies, however muted and dim those might be, I of course would like to fully support you both and therefore make your home as festive as you both would enjoy and feel accustomed to."

"See, that is where the problem lies, Rachel," Kurt pointed out, exhaling. "I'm not exactly accustomed to mistletoe hanging over every corner of my house around Christmas time. Most Christmases in the Hummel house consisted of me and Dad, and having to kiss my dad every time I happen to cross through a doorway…that would just be weird. And wrong. Maybe even illegal."

"Illegal? I kiss my dads all the time, it's certainly not a crime," Rachel responded with some surprise in her tone as she finally stepped down from the chair, scooting it backwards so she could inspect her work. "Yes, I think that will do nicely… "

"Dads and daughters are a little different than dads and sons…or should be, anyway," Kurt muttered, even as he quickly stepped back from being anywhere within the general range of Rachel and the mistletoe as she came down from the chair. "Look, Rachel, I understand you're trying to be spirited, but…mistletoe may not work in this place. Or do anything except make weirdness. I mean, look who lives here. There's me, and no offense, but I don't really want to kiss you like that and I definitely don't want to kiss Santana-"

"Thank all holy beings above for that," came Santana's interruption as she emerged from behind her curtain, meandering into the kitchen area and leaning her elbows casually into the counter as she looked between Kurt and Santana. "What's up? Who's Kurt locking lady lips with now?"

"And then there's the Santana factor," Kurt finished up, nodding his head towards her as though there was no further need for explanation, and as Rachel turned towards her, bemused, it appeared that she did not agree with his assessment.

"The Santana factor? What does Santana have to do with anything?"

"Do you really want to string mistletoe all around any house that Santana Lopez is occupying?" Kurt pointed out, his tone slow, making it obvious that he knew exactly what the issue was with that even if Rachel didn't, and as Rachel continued to frown, eyes shifting between him and the other girl, she noticed how Santana's eyes lit up, how her lips curved into a wicked smile, and suddenly she did doubt her own décor decisions.

"Gotta say I love the decorations, Berry," Santana almost purred, even as she advanced slowly towards the brunette, long fingernails trailing over the countertop. "Really puts me in a festive mood…"

As she play-stalked a suddenly nervous Rachel, practically backing her up against the sink, Kurt sighed, shaking his head, as he attempted to decide whether to stay and attempt to reign in Santana, or simply slip away before she dragged him in on her own private amusement as well.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14  
N is for Nutcracker

"That ballet would be so much better if they would cut out like, the entire first act," Santana commented, not even bothering to stifle her yawn behind her hand from where she was curled up, blanket wrapped around both her and Dani on the couch. "Come on, guys, can't we fast forward to the good stuff?"

"And miss Baryshnikov in his tights?" Kurt asked in disbelief, immediately shaking his head. He was seated on the far end of the same couch, Rachel in between him and Santana, the four of them a tight squeeze, but it was two days before Christmas, nearly midnight, and it was cold outside, so none minded the close quarters. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No, just sick of seeing his junk…and the rat heads are disgusting, I see enough of those walking to work and in the apartment hallway," was Santana's remark, accompanied by yet another eye roll, as she nestled her head against Dani's shoulder, wrapping her arm more securely around her girlfriend's waist. "Do we have to watch them prancing around on TV too?"

"I thought you like dance, babe," Dani reminded her, dropping a soft kiss on her forehead and stroking back her hair. "In fact, I thought you wanted to BE in the Nutcracker next year if possible, isn't that what you said?"

"No," Santana muttered unconvincingly, even as Rachel flapped her hand, shushing them all.

"Shhhh, it's about to be at the part where the Prince and Clara dance privately!"

"Ohhhhh, okay, let's all quiet down so the 30 year old dude dancing around with his dick poking out can seduce the 12 year old girl who had an orgasm over getting a doll for Christmas five minutes ago, we wouldn't want to miss that great romance," Santana replied, eyebrows raised.

Dani snorted, even as both Kurt and Rachel glared in her direction, and Rachel snapped back at them both.

"Santana, you just want to fast forward to the girls in skimpy leotards dancing because you're hoping to see nipples through their leotards. Let me dash your hopes now, if you haven't already noticed, most of the girls have an extremely low body mass index and therefore their breasts are extremely small, also most of the costumes are not at all revealing, and they are appropriately clad so exactly such an incident will not occur and embarrass them in front of mass audiences. Dani, you may not find her so amusing were you to realize that she simply wishes to gawk at other females rather than a very fit and attractive male."

"I'm not too worried, Rachel," Dani replied mildly, giving Santana a light squeeze, even as Santana exhaled, disappointed.

"Seriously? Then what's the point of even watching?"

"Enjoyment, entertainment, and in my case at least, stimulating experience?" Kurt put in, as Rachel added, "It is a traditional holiday viewing, and as you, Kurt, and I are all involved in and interested in ballet, surely you can appreciate it for the excellent talent displayed in it, perhaps even model yourself after some of the great classical dancers of last century, if you were to simply pay attention."

Santana, however, simply rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and sighed all over again.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15  
O is for Old Friends

"What the hell, I thought we scared the carolers off the last time they came around!" Santana griped as the sound of singing in harmony arose from the hallway of their apartment, faint at first, but then gradually growing louder in volume, as though the offending singers were growing closer to their door. "Rachel, I swear, this is what happens when you VOLUNTEER us to go along, they think all of a sudden we don't completely hate them or something!"

"Those aren't the carolers from before, Santana, clearly," Kurt pointed out as he came up behind her towards the doorway, brow furrowed as he listened. "They actually know what they're doing…there are recognizable musical notes in this." He paused, listening, and frowned more deeply as the next few lines of singing continued. "In fact…"

But Santana was hearing it too now, and she stilled, eyes widening, before she turned hurriedly back towards Rachel, who was suspiciously silent just behind them, even as her brown eyes glowed with satisfaction. "Rachel…is that…did you…"

Rather than respond, Rachel brushed past her and opened the door, revealing Noah Puckerman, Tina Cohen-Chang, Blaine Anderson, Mike Chang, Quinn Fabray, Mercedes Jones, Sam Evans, Brittany Pierce, and Mr. Shuester standing behind it. As Kurt nearly squealed and moved forward to start flinging his arms around everyone, Santana hung back, smiling, for only a few seconds before moving forward too to join in the greetings. Later they would explain that they had raised money to spend a couple of days in New York City for the holiday break, that they would be touring the city and staying in a nearby hotel, but for now, no explanation mattered. They were here, and it seemed almost magical.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16  
P is for Presents

"Berry, I promise you you're not gonna rip up a golden ticket to backstage Streisand passes if you open your gifts in any less than thirty minutes time for each one," Santana snapped, impatient, as she tapped her fingernails rapidly against the floor. She, Kurt, and Rachel were seated in front of their Christmas tree, two days before Christmas and driving home to Lima, and it had been decided- or rather, dictated by Rachel, with no protest from Kurt and Santana- that they would open their gifts to each other early, before going home to their families.

It wasn't so much the amount of time Rachel was taking to open her gifts, or the painstakingly slow, cautious way she insisted on sliding up the slivers of tape without damaging the wrapping paper, carefully untying and then actually flattening out the creases of every ribbon and bow, or even the way she was folding each piece of wrapping paper, making sure they were whole and undamaged, before she would so much as look at her gift. Or the fact that she had so far managed to complete the unwrapping of one and only one of her presents.

Or maybe it was all of that, actually. Maybe it was the fact that Kurt and Rachel had both decided that rather than everyone open their gifts at once, they would each taking turns opening one present at a time with the other two sitting back and watching. And the fact that at the rate Rachel was going, it would Santana approximately until New Years before she could open her own.

For her part, Rachel remained unruffled, simply sending Santana an infuriatingly patient smile. That was another very annoying thing about the evening- the girl appeared determined to remain cheery and good-hearted in spite of all efforts on Santana's part to rattle her, which had been increasing in number as the night wore on. Partly due to Santana's dislike of driving long hours in heavy traffic, partly due to her dread of returning to Lima, where it seemed that nothing remained except reminders of all that she had lost in the last few years, of all that had changed that would never be the same, all that had hurt her that she had been trying so hard to separate herself from.

And partly, of course, because Rachel could be so friggin' annoying.

"Santana, it is both practical and respectful towards the gift and the gift giver to be very careful with the wrapping, which is as important and meaningful as the gift itself," Rachel informed her, even as she pried up another sliver of tape. "If someone has taken the time to select paper and carefully wrap the gift rather than simply stick it in a gift bag with tissue, then I should at the very least take the time to properly appreciate it."

"I don't give a shit if you "respect" me or my presents or anything but my fast dwindling time," Santana retorted, pointing with exaggerated gestures towards her watch. "And I'm gonna tell you right now that I'm gonna rip right into whatever you gave me so don't expect me to sit around half the night drooling over the wrapping paper. If it's as important as the gift I should have just given you a roll of friggin' wrapping paper, plus I could have used it like a baseball bat to hit you upside the head if you took too long taking the plastic wrap off of THAT."

"Santana, really. Can we not get through Christmas Eve, Eve, at least, without threats of concussions?" Kurt sighed, even as he gestured towards Rachel, seeming to agree with Santana in spirit if not verbalizations. "But she's right, Rachel, please move it along. We both appreciate your appreciation-"

"I don't," Santana interrupted, but he ignored her, continuing as though he hadn't heard.

"We appreciate your care towards the gifts, but really, we would also like to get through the night. We won't take it as disrespect, especially since both of us had the paper chosen and wrapped for us in stores. There was no effort or choice in the matter at all."

Rachel's hand froze on the gift she was currently practically cradling in her lap as he said this, and she looked down at it, then back up at her roommates, the expression on her face now resembling a wounded puppy. "Well that certainly says a lot, doesn't it," she muttered, even as Santana huffed out loud, her exasperation growing that much more exponentially.

"Rachel, I swear if you're gonna get on a hump about us not loving you or some shit like that because we didn't personally obsess for a week over exactly what wrapping paper to buy for you individually and then take three hours to wrap it up, I swear I am gonna knock you out with the Christmas tree stand even if I have to knock over the whole tree to do it. Now I spent three days' wages on that thing you're pouting over in your lap, so OPEN IT ALREADY and SMILE and SING and THROW YOURSELF AT ME AND SMOTHER ME WITH JOY, NOW!"

And although she sounded far from loving or jolly or good-hearted, it was the kind of message that Rachel could understand and even see the hidden message of genuine regard beneath- for Santana to spend that much money on anyone other than herself was indeed impressive, and said a lot. And within the next minute and thirty-seven seconds, all which Santana timed in great irritation, Rachel was indeed reacting exactly as she had demanded.

It took Santana approximately three seconds and Kurt a still impressive eight to open their gifts from Rachel, but then it was back to Rachel, opening her gift from Kurt, and the waiting had to start all over again.

"Berry…"

"I can't appreciate this one either?"

Chapter 17: Chapter 17  
Q is for Queen sized Bed

Kurt wasn't quite sure how this had happened.

It wasn't as if the three of them had never drank together before. Generally they attempted to avoid this, or at least all three of them drinking at once, because the results were rarely pretty. Santana would get nostalgic and insecure and inevitably burst into tears, Rachel would get giggly and silly and suddenly want to pet the hair of and snuggle up against whoever happened to be close- which with the two of them, generally made a rather sad-looking huddle of a weepy Santana and a hugging, hair petting Rachel, both who would completely deny in the morning that this had taken place at all. And Kurt? Well…alcohol in excess seemed to make his usually rather repressed and controlled sexual feelings come up, out, and overboard, and he could no longer control or predict just how they might present themselves.

They had not exactly intended to get drunk; it was just a little spiked eggnog, supposedly just enough to get them in a Christmas-y "mood" to celebrate the end of the school semester for Kurt and Rachel. But somehow one glass had turned into several, and then the entire punch bowl was gone, and the occurrences after that point were something of a blur.

Kurt couldn't explain how it was, exactly, he had ended up in Rachel's queen sized bed, wearing nothing more than a glittery t-shirt that looked suspiciously like nothing any of the three of them owned, his boxers, and long striped socks with bells, a Santa hat on his chest, and a chunk of Rachel's hair caught in his mouth, one of his legs half flung over hers. He could see through bleary eyes that Rachel was in between him and Santana, that she and Santana appeared to be wearing pieces of what looked like sexy Santa costumes, and Rachel's head was resting high up on Santana's chest, just beneath her collar bone, both her arms wound around the girl's waist, that Santana had a handful of Rachel's hair in one fist, her chin pressing into the top of Rachel's head. Rachel's mouth was open, and Santana was snoring softly, little strands of what looked suspiciously like pieces of garland stuck in both their hair.

He couldn't explain it, and his head hurt much too badly to try. Instead he simply staggered to his feet, blinking and swaying until his world righted itself again, and padded into the kitchen. Coffee. That was his answer for the morning, and likely the only one he'd ever really get.

Although it might have been amusing to see the girls' reactions and interpretations, when they finally awoke later on.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18  
R is for Reindeer

"Remind me why I let you suck me into this every year," Quinn sighed as she leaned back into the cushions of the Pierce's couch, propping her head in her hand slightly to the side as she leaned into the arm rest, away from the other two girls also sharing couch space. However, given their positioning, it was difficult to be completely apart from them.

Brittany and Santana were rather closely entwined with each other, their legs overlapping with Santana having one stretched over Brittany's lap, Brittany having one stretched over Santana's, their torsos turned towards each other, arms wound around each other's waists comfortably as they cuddled into each other, heads leaned against each other as well. They resembled a puppy pile of two, and Santana's foot brushed Quinn's thigh every time either of them even slightly shifted, no matter how tightly Quinn attempted to press herself against the armrest to avoid her.

"Because it's awesome," was Brittany's response as her hand idly stroked up Santana's side, lightly running her fingertips over her ribs. Quinn only hoped that she wouldn't press any further with her exploration, because if the two of them started making out or groping in front of her- and it would be far from unexpected for them to do so- she was gonna get up and go, or at least hit them both with a pillow, Brittany's ban against bullying or not.

"Because Britt wants to do it and she likes us to do it together. And if Brittany wants it, I'm gonna make sure she gets it without some little blondie ruining it for her by bitching all the way through," Santana raised an eyebrow pointedly towards Quinn's direction, even as she ran her fingers lovingly through Brittany's hair, which was, of course, also blonde. "Also, you're a total dork and you love this shit, so don't even pretend you don't."

"Sorry, baby," she added when she caught Brittany looking at her with a slightly wounded expression for the less than flattering word used in reference to her desired activity. "I didn't mean that, you know I like doing this with you."

She rolled her eyes at Quinn as Brittany, satisfied, settled back against Santana, as though to convey that although she liked to spend time with Brittany and very, very close to Brittany, Brittany's choice of activity was far from what her own would have been. Quinn, raising an eyebrow back at her, allowed her lips to quirk, and then, slowly lifting her hand, flicked her wrist quickly, as though cracking a whip, knowing very well that this simple gesture would definitely piss Santana off.

Just as she had expected, Santana's face reddened, and she scowled, her brow furrowing, eyebrows drawing together into a sharp line, but she didn't say anything or pull away from Brittany to snap back at the other girl, not wanting to disturb her girlfriend or her current state of bliss. Brittany was staring towards the television and the figures playing across it, enraptured, and so Santana settled for kicking at Quinn's thigh.

"Move over, Hippy," she ordered, but Quinn just shoved her foot back, almost entirely off of Brittany's lap.

"You've given me about five inches of space as it is, why don't you just make it official and lay across both our laps since that's pretty much what you seem to be working towards anyway?"

"Sorry, I don't share," Santana shot back, nuzzling her nose into Brittany's cheek, even as Quinn took the all too easy bait.

"That's not what I heard from the entire football team last year…"

"Please don't say mean things," Brittany interrupted just as Santana started to bolt up from her entangled position with her, eyes widening, mouth opening to spit out a much more vicious insult that never did come forth. She looked between her girlfriend and their friend, her blue eyes round and serious, her voice urgent, even sad, as she continued, "This is the time of the year that we're all supposed to have cheer and peace and let everyone know how much we love them, even if we normally would scribble on their faces in the yearbook. And I love you both the whole entire year so you should love each other too. It's hard to like watching my favorite show in the whole world at my very favorite time of the year if you make me sad."

She paused, then added as an afterthought that was equally serious, "Plus Santa Claus is watching. He sees you when you're mean to each other and he might not want to give you nice things this year."

Santana and Quinn met each other's eyes over Brittany's shoulder again, exchanging slightly guilty looks before both dropped their gaze again. They both knew and were protective of Brittany's continued belief in Santa, not wanting to ever be the ones to clue her in otherwise, and Brittany's disappointment in their behavior was enough of a deterrent for even Santana to back down. Maybe especially for Santana.

"Sorry, Britt," she amended, giving her a kiss on the lips softly, before cutting her eyes at Quinn, who also apologized. As the three of them settled back again, turning their eyes towards the TV, they continued to watch the Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer Christmas special with no further arguments, in fact, in relative silence, broken only by Brittany's occasional beaming comments about the characters and Santana's indulgent smiles aimed her way.

It wasn't until the end, when Rudolph was chosen to lead the team of reindeer in the night and first rose into the sky, that Quinn really bothered to look back over towards her friends, ever expectant of the same familiar sight that she saw each and every year. Brittany, grinning, bright-eyed, and clapping with excitement…and Santana, lowering her head and scrubbing at her eyes with the palm of her hands as though she were very, very tired, when in reality she was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Looking at their reactions, repeated year after year, Quinn felt a rush of affection towards them both and didn't try to hide her smile.

Every year she complained, but every year she was glad for having gone through with it; it never really felt like Christmas until she had watched Rudolph with her best friends.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19  
S is for Santa

"You know, if you think about it, the idea of Santa Claus is totally insane," Santana mused from where she sat back on the couch, sipping the hot chocolate in her hand as she watched Rachel playing the glass Santa Claus ornament on their Christmas tree. Technically, she too was supposed to be helping her and Kurt decorate, but after a few ornaments and half-hearted efforts at helping Kurt untangle the lights, she had sat back down, declaring herself to be "supervising," to Rachel's disgruntlement. "Like, forget all the crap about how impossible it is that he'd be in like ten million houses at once in a single second, and the idea of having height-challenged people like Berry work as slaves all year round. But when you think about it, some old, fat guy in an ugly suit perving up on little kids, asking them to sit on his lap and tell them their wishes and fantasies…I mean, who came up with that, Pedophile of the Year?"

"Santana, really," Kurt rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at her as he continued to struggle with the lights. "It's innocent, and it's fun. And if you talk about it like that it will give me creepy images in my head every time I pass one of the bellringers on the street corner that I'm really not okay with having up there. Can you actually make yourself useful here and help me with these?"

"Innocent, whatever," Santana rolled her eyes right back, pointedly ignoring his request for help as she took another sip of her drink. "Wait until you get a boner up your candy cane tights before you tell me about it being innocent."

"Actually, the original tale of Santa Claus was rather intimidating, Kurt," Rachel piped up brightly as she carefully arranged another ornament on a branch. "He was rather different in appearance than the jolly obese man we know of now, and he had a companion named Black Peter who would carry a whip and physically harm the children he perceived to be naughty-"

"See?" Santana pointed towards Kurt, laughing aloud. "I knew it! Kinky S&M Santa…you ever seen any pics?"

"Well, as the tale is older than the invention of the camera-" Rachel began, even as Kurt blinked, taken aback by this information.

"And there goes that last shred of innocence he was clinging on to," Santana observed, smirking.

"Should we tell him about Santa's strangely close relationship with his reindeer?"

"Santana!"

"What? I gotta supervise his education along with his tree decorating…by the way, you totally missed a spot there, and those two ornaments put together clash…"

Chapter 20: Chapter 20  
T is for Toys

"I swear, kids get all the good stuff now, and none of them even PLAY with toys," Santana commented as she picked up a Bratzilla doll in one hand and a Monster High in the other from the toy store's doll aisle, eyebrows raised as she nodded her interest and approval down towards the items in her hands. "Look at this, how friggin' awesome are those things?"

"They probably would have given me nightmares as a kid," Kurt responded as he narrowed his own eyes critically towards the dolls Santana was holding out for them to view, subtly wrinkling his nose and tapping the Monster High box. "Look at this, Santana, this doll is literally skin and bone. No, actually, it has no skin, because it is literally a skeleton. Its body is literally made of bones, and yet for some reason it's still wearing makeup and fashionable clothes. That is just frightening."

"Bony body with makeup and fashionable clothes, jeez, doesn't sound familiar or anything, does it?" Santana shot back, smirking towards him as she pointedly looked him up and down. "It's awesome and you probably would have played with it hiding under your bed when you were a kid. Or maybe just in your closet?" she laughed at her own joke, though it could have easily been applied to herself as well, as Kurt pointed out.

"Spend much time in your own closet playing with GI Joes- or, excuse me, were naked Barbie dolls more along your style?"

"Hey, naked Barbies were educational," Santana grinned back at him, not denying his accusation at all as she put the dolls back on the shelf almost reluctantly. "No Ken doll needed, the guy didn't have a dick to work with anyway. Not even Earring Magic Ken- who I bet was YOUR favorite."

"I may have had a mint in the box edition," Kurt admitted, his cheeks reddening slightly, as Rachel, having been listening to the exchanges back and forth, spoke up intently.

"I quite agree with Kurt, Santana, those dolls which you are admiring are simply not suitable for children or even for preteen or adolescent girls, nor are Barbie dolls. They are so unhealthily thin they are quite literally bones, and yet they are presented as attractive and fashionable. They are simply not suitable Christmas gifts for any child, nor gifts at any time of the year, because they present a very unhealthy view of how the female body should look, particularly in regards to weight. No child can look such a way and certainly no woman without being quite seriously unwell, and children do not understand this at their limited levels of understanding and comprehension and may become quite mentally unwell attempting to meet this challenge that doll makers are unconsciously setting for them. The affect is very clear in yourself, Santana, you stated that you played with naked Barbie dolls, who are well known for their slender hips and their large breasts, and you yourself received breast implants when you were only sixteen, which is only a few years past the age of playing with dolls. Clearly you were rather influenced unconsciously by the very toys which played such a large and important part of your childhood."

Both Kurt and Santana stared at Rachel, blinking, before Kurt burst out laughing; Santana tried to glare at her, but her lips were twitching too, and she seemed to be finding it hard not to laugh as well.

"Berry, are you seriously telling me I got a boob job because I played with BARBIE DOLLS too much?!"

"It quite possibly had a large impact on your decision unconsciously, yes," Rachel nodded calmly, even as she selected a Barbie doll styling head in its box and held it towards Kurt. "Kurt has stated previously that he enjoyed playing with these as a child as well, and he certainly became quite good with hair and makeup as he grew older, as a result. The same with the Kaboodles and the sewing kits he utilized as a child. What you practice with as a child shapes you as an adult and young person."

Kurt and Santana exchanged incredulous looks at each other, not quite believing what she was asserting, before Santana, eyebrows raised high, asked, "Okayyy then, Berry, what did YOU play with as a little kid? Gold star stickers?"

"Well, I did enjoy those, yes," was Rachel's reply, coupled with a shrug. "However, other than sleeping on occasion with stuffed animals, I didn't really play with toys, per se. I was considerably more active engaging in extracurricular activities and lessons, all which were very helpful to shape and polish my talents. I did enjoy my karaoke machine and my toy microphone, and as you can see, I certainly was influenced by that."

"You didn't play with TOYS?" Kurt blurted, his mouth open in a round O of near horror, and Santana exhaled, rolling her eyes skyward.

"Why am I not at all surprised?"

"What did you ask Santa for on Christmas?" Kurt asked, still appearing to find it difficult to wrap his mind around this, as Santana, apparently having lost interest in the conversation, began to examine other Monster High dolls nearby.

"Well, as I was Jewish, I did not believe in the myth of Santa Claus, so this was not a problem for me," Rachel explained, shrugging. "But my dad was Christian even if Daddy wasn't, so I did celebrate Christmas as well. I simply asked my dad for what I wanted. Usually it would be music or trips to musical events of some kind, occasionally I might ask for warm clothing."

The horrified looks on her roommates' faces left her frowning, confused. "What? I was a very practical child…which of course carried to this present day through my selection of toys and the good choices I made towards them. See how that works?"

Chapter 21: Chapter 21  
U is for Unicorn

One would think that it would be simple to get Brittany the Christmas present she had requested this year. Brittany had a tendency to ask for the impossible and sometimes the frankly insane- like her request last year, for Artie to be able to walk. When someone believes in Santa Claus, even at age seventeen, there seemed to be no limit to what they believed possible to obtain for Christmas, which left people like her parents, and more importantly, her girlfriend, Santana, in a fix as they tried to figure out, usually last minute, how to make it happen for her.

And this Christmas, she had asked for a unicorn.

Not a unicorn stuffed animal, not a unicorn t-shirt or poster or slippers, not a unicorn bedset or hat or anything else that Santana could have found somewhere, that may have actually existed. Nothing that money, however much she might have shelled out, could have possibly bought.

A unicorn.A real, life, actual unicorn, complete with a horn. And the more Santana thought about it, the more stressed out she got.

How was she possibly going to get her girl what she was asking for? Yet how was she going to explain to her- for the second year in a row- that Santa Claus couldn't deliver what she apparently wanted most?

It took her over a week of agonizing to herself before she finally came up with a solution. Walking up to her girlfriend after class, she pulled her aside in the hallway and into the choir room by the hand, then sat her down and sat across from her, still holding her hands between hers as she told her the story she had been rehearsing to herself for days.

"Britt…haven't you heard the stories about Santa Claus and the unicorns?"

When Brittany shook her head, her eyes wide and guileless as always, Santana took in a slow breath, trying to make sure that she sounded fully sincere and serious as she continued.

"Well, Santa used to deliver unicorns a lot, back like, in the pilgrim times, when they were running around all over the country. But when we started getting winter and the unicorns didn't like the cold anymore, they started to get cranky. So when Santa would try to round up a reindeer for Christmas for a good boy or girl, the unicorns would get upset because they wanted to be left alone to sleep, plus, they were jealous of all the attention that Santa and his elves were getting. You know how territorial they can be, they're so special they want all eyes on them, right? So when Santa tried to get a unicorn one day, the unicorn was so upset he poked Santa in the butt with his horn. So ever since Santa's been upset and he won't work with unicorns anymore. He's afraid of them. I know it's silly because they're usually so sweet, but I guess you'll just have to find a way to get a unicorn yourself."

Brittany had been listening intently, and as Santana watched her, trying to determine whether she bought it, the blonde sighed, disappointed, but nodded acceptance.

"That's really sad…okay. I guess I can live with just having a stuffed unicorn this Christmas."

But Santana didn't even have time to breathe a sigh of relief before she added, "But St. Patrick's day, I should be able to have one. Because everyone knows the leprechauns and unicorns are best friends…"

Chapter 22: Chapter 22  
V is for Visions of Sugar Plums

"I always kind of wondered," Santana commented from where she lay sprawled across half the couch, head pillowed against Dani's shoulder, "what the hell is a sugar plum?"

It wasn't the night before Christmas, but it was the night before she, Kurt, and Rachel went to Lima for Christmas, and to Rachel, that was the same thing. She had insisted on gathering the group of them together as a "family" to read "The Night Before Christmas," although Santana had suggested that watching The Nightmare Before Christmas would have been much more interesting.

"It has music, Rachel. It has weird ghoulish fashion for Kurt and it has a wannabe eglomaniac star in the making for you, not to mention a lovesick outcast girl that your high school self should totally identify with. Two Berry stand-ins, what more could you ask for?" she had attempted to steer the girl in that alternate direction, but Rachel had remained firm.

"We can watch it afterward if you so wish, Santana, but The Night Before Christmas is a classic and a traditional poem and it should be shared as such every year with those who spend the holidays together," Rachel had maintained, setting her jaw in such a way that her roommates knew better than to push her much further. Doing so would only further delay the experience of listening to the poem, and Rachel would only feel the need to read it in a louder volume and use that much more overdramatic expression.

It had not been sufficient for Rachel to look up the poem online and read it off her laptop; oh no, she had insisted that it must be a bound, published copy, complete with illustrations to show everyone like story hour at a children's library, and she had managed to obtain the last copy at the library before she settled the group together to read aloud. Each of them having heard the poem countless times before, no one was paying much attention, but Santana, being Santana, couldn't resist occasional interruptions, just to get on Rachel's nerves.

"Santana, you know what a sugar plum is," Kurt exhaled, rolling his eyes, and Santana smirked, raising an eyebrow back at him as she commented, "Well, yes, Kurt, usually the term would be used to describe you or your kind, but I'm thinking most likely the little kids in this story weren't having nightmares about prancing queer boys all night long. If they are then Santa is gonna have to do a little better than provide them with Barbies and G.I. Joes to ease those mental scars, 'cause otherwise their toys are gonna be carrying on some interesting scenarios in the morning."

"Santana," Dani poked her ribs, reproving, but Santana heard the smile in her voice and knew she was trying not to laugh. Rachel lowered the book slightly enough to huff in her direction, an edge to her tone even as she couldn't resist the opportunity to enlighten.

"A sugar plum, Santana, is a small round candy consisting of flavored boiled sugar. In those days I suppose that children were not commonly given access to candy or other sweets, and children who were not wealthy did not often obtain toys for Christmas, so they would most likely dream of being given candy for Christmas. Now if you will allow me to resume my reading-"

"The kids literally dreamed of candy? Of BOILED candy, the kind a grandma would offer out of her pocket?" Santana laughed, shaking her head incredulously and dodging Dani's second poke. "What else did they dream about, socks, tooth brushes?"

"Actually, Santana, new socks would most likely have been a luxury in those times as even undergarments were often hand-me-downs, and a tooth brush such as those that we utilize today didn't even exist-"

"Okay, let me get this straight," Santana sat up entirely, her shoulders held loosely by Dani's arm as she pointed a finger towards Rachel. "We're reading about kids who were too damn sad and poor to hope for anything more than a sucky piece of candy for Christmas, who would do cartwheels over getting socks, who can't even brush the cavities out of their teeth from the sucky candy that they think would be a dream come true, literally…and this is supposed to be a heart-warming and inspirational setting for the holidays? Damn, why don't we just give them some acid so they can stay in their sugar plum visions all day long, 'cause they're gonna have a lot more joy outta that then they will when they wake up Christmas morning."

It seemed from Kurt's and Dani's barely suppressed snickers that they happened to agree, even as Rachel earnestly attempted to explain and recoup all over again. Not that anything she said at this point would convince Santana- give her a boiled piece of candy or a tab of acid, and she knew what she'd pick. At least she could sell the acid for cash and buy a decent Christmas gift.

Chapter 23: Chapter 23  
W is for Wish

"Does Brittany still believe in Santa Claus?"

Santana looked over to the blonde lying close to her in the narrow twin bed of her dorm room, nevertheless managing to touch as little of her body as was possible in the small space allotted to them both. She had come to visit Quinn the last week Quinn had classes before her Christmas break, not only to see Quinn but also to help distract herself from the depressing holiday she knew that she would be having. Having broken things off with Brittany, with her papi slated to work through the holiday, and her abuela no longer part of her Christmases, Santana had a lonely and somewhat depressing Christmas to look forward to, and she knew that only going to Quinn, whose Christmases had always been strained for as long as Santana knew her in her rather unhappy family set up, could she feel somewhat comforted about her own.

She was surprised that Quinn had mentioned Brittany at all; they had carefully avoided the topic in the two days Santana had been staying with her, as Quinn didn't like to play the role of the comforter or handle others' emotion if she didn't have to, and as she was friends with both Santana and Brittany, it would have put her in an awkward position to have to do so. Not to mention that Santana herself hated to be vulnerable in front of her and always had; even now, with all their history and all the very difficult years they'd had together, her instinct was and probably always would be to compete with Quinn, to present herself as untouchable so the other girl could never shake her or take from her, never stab her in the heart if she had no information to do it with. For her to confide in her how much being apart from Brittany this season hurt would be unprecedented.

But they were both slightly drunk, nostalgic, and even now Quinn was nudging Santana's shin with her foot, initiating more physical contact through this than was usual for her, pushing at Santana's arms with her hands. And Santana found herself replying with a sigh, not bothering to keep the sadness out of her tone.

"Yeah, I think so. It would be nice, wouldn't it? To think you could have whatever you wanted, whatever you wished, if you just asked and believed enough?"

"Touche," Quinn said wryly, a slight smile tugging at her lips, before casting her eyes upward towards the ceiling, and it took Santana a few moments to realize that she was referring to God and her somewhat hypocritical and confused Christianity throughout high school. Processing this, she nudged Quinn back, pretending that she was fighting for space in the bed while really just wanting, though she didn't quite understand it, the brief physical contact with her.

"Quinn… you still believe in him?"

"Santa?" was Quinn's much too innocent reply, but she relented as Santana nudged her again, harder. "I guess I do. Not the same way, but…nothing's really ever gonna be the same way that it was, is it?"

They were quiet for a few moments, looking up towards the ceiling, aware of the other's closeness, their legs still touching slightly, before Quinn spoke again, her voice soft; she had not known what she would say until she said it.

"What would you wish for, if you could?"

It didn't take Santana long at all to reply; she seemed to have the answer all ready in her mind for that precise question, and she whispered it somewhat shakily, blinking.

"I would wish for my abuela to love me again. And Brittany. I'd wish for Brittany."

The girls were quiet again, the heaviness of this wish settling over them, and Quinn ignored the silent tears slipping down Santana's cheeks, the slight catch to her breathing. She didn't point out that those were two wishes, technically, and after a few moments she replied softly.

"I just want to be happy. I never have been, not for very long, and…I just want to be happy. And loved. I think we all want that."

Santana didn't reply to this verbally, but Quinn heard her exhale again, and after a few seconds the weight of Santana's head settled against her shoulder, her hand slipping into her own. Slowly Quinn let her head drop to touch Santana's, let her fingers lace through, and after a few more minutes, the heavy feeling in her chest began to lift.

Chapter 24: Chapter 24  
X is for XO

"Well aren't you the little tease," Santana commented from behind Rachel, resting her elbow onto her shoulder and exerting slight pressure as she leaned forward, looking over her shoulder at what Rachel was currently writing.

Rachel jumped, startled, and turned her head to look back at her, not having heard her come into the room. Raising an eyebrow and tilting her head slightly with some confusion at Santana's comment, she then turned back towards the stack of Christmas cards she had been painstakingly writing out, inclining her head towards them as she replied.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Santana, but I do think it is ironic that you would say as much considering your current clothing. Do you plan to go out publicly in that attire, and if you are, I do hope that you will be wearing a coat, and not only because it is cold outside."

Santana glanced down at her long-sleeved t-shirt, which read in red glittery letters, "Deck my halls and I'll jingle your bells," and grinned back towards Rachel, taking her elbow off the other girl to stretch her arms slowly over her head- the better to show maximum view of the shirt, its writing, and the breasts beneath it.

"Of course I'm wearing it. For someone who always gets so manic about showing holiday spirit, you're really trying to squash mine once I muster it up."

"I just believe that you are asking for someone to be inappropriate with you when you display such a message across your chest, and although I am sure you can take care of yourself, you certainly wouldn't want to seem as if you were inviting such behavior, and you are in fact rather small, Santana, and I simply am concerned that-" Rachel began to explain herself, but Santana didn't let her go on for very long.

"Hey, maybe inappropriate is what I'm hoping for, which would therefore make it totally appropriate if people responded. Not to mention, the girl commonly referred to as dwarf, hobbit, and midget is now calling ME small? If you think I'm a small tease, and it's gonna make people be "inappropriate," then why the hell are you inviting people to hug and kiss you all over every single Christmas card?" Santana nodded towards the card Rachel had paused in the middle of writing out, where two x's and two o's completed the flourished signing of her name.

"Santana, of course I'm not kissing every single one of these people in actuality, most of them live very far from me and kissing them would be a physical impossibility," Rachel reasoned, even as she closed the card she had been working on and stuck it in an envelope. "Putting xo is simply a way to conclude a mail correspondence to indicate physical affection and love towards another person. I write that to everyone, it doesn't mean that I would literally hug and kiss them all, though actually I would not be opposed to doing so, as long as the kiss is chaste and friendly rather than overly sensual or sexual in nature."

Santana coughed loudly, although it was obvious to Rachel that she was coughing out "Kissing tease" rather than actually needing to cough, and as Rachel frowned at her, waving the Christmas card she had selected next in her face, she informed her, "Well, fine, Santana, this is your card and I do assure you that you will not be receiving any such requests for hugs and kisses in yours, are you quite satisfied then?"

"Sure," Santana shrugged, but the wicked glint in her eyes made Rachel eye her suspiciously. "I'll just get mine on in person, no evidence for all generations future that way."

And before Rachel quite knew what was happening Santana swooped in, surrounding her from behind in a tight, nearly painful bear hug, and quickly kissed each cheek before backing off towards her bedroom, snickering to herself. Rachel tried to scowl back towards her, but one hand lifted to touch her cheek, one at a time, and she knew she was smiling.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25  
Y is for Year

One thing was for certain- it had been quite a year.

For Rachel, there had been winning the winter showcase and getting her first minimum wage job, dating a gigolo and having a pregnancy scare, getting her first tattoo, a style and sometimes attitude makeover. This year Rachel had started to realize that although she was and would eventually be a star, she would have to work harder than she had ever anticipated to get to that point of recognition she wanted, and she would need, much more than she had ever understood before, the support and love of her friends, every step of the way. This was the year Rachel received her first break, in winning the role of Fanny Brice, and this was the year that she finally felt herself really growing closer to being the woman that she had always envisioned herself as one day being. This was the year that she formed yet another family outside of her fathers, outside the loose inclusion of the Glee club, a small group of only herself, Kurt, and Santana, who had become for her the best friends she had ever had, and she loved and was loved by them more than she would have thought possible.

For Kurt, this was the year of branching out, of losing and gaining in love, of engagements and making it into NYADA, experimenting with his work, his style, and his talents in an arena where he would only be appreciated rather than scorned. This was the year that Kurt had the confidence to start a band, to date outside the box, to let himself blossom as he never could in Lima, and this was the year that he truly understood that he genuinely could become whatever he chose, exactly as he chose it, if he continued to grow and to try.

For Santana, this had been a year of struggle, but also a year of gradually working towards success. Trudging through cheering in Louisville, breaking up with and cycling through her ever changing relationship with Brittany, stripping and struggling in New York City, had given her much pain and much confusion, and it was only now she felt like she was finally breaking through. She was dancing, she had a job that was only occasionally demeaning and much more frequently awesome, she had a girlfriend who she didn't' have to worry would ever ditch her for a man. She was in a band and still thinking about trying for NYADA, she had been in a national commercial, even if it was lame, but most of all, she had Rachel and Kurt, who in spite of all odds against it, had become more than her friends, but rather her family. With them she felt loved, accepted, and strangely safe, as she never fully had in her life.

Of course, Finn's death had shaken them all, but in a way it seemed to have bound them more tightly together as well. They knew now how terribly short and sudden life could be, and now more than ever they were determined to make the most of theirs, to continue to strive for their dreams, and to remain closely bound and supportive of each other all the way. They knew what it was to no longer be able to be with the people they loved, and so they made sure, in their own ways, that each knew that they mattered, that no one would ever leave without this assurance.

It had been quite the year, and undoubtedly the next would be crazier still. But they had learned from it, they had grown from it, and overall, they could not have said that they were sorry for it.

Chapter 26: Chapter 26  
Z is for Zzzz

The lights on their Christmas tree blinked on and off, due to a questionable socket rather than the nature of the lights themselves, and the small candles on the coffee table flickered in the room's darkened interior, the sole sources of light. Wrapping paper was still strewn across the floor, as Santana had insisted that, although it was Christmas Eve, they could each open at least ONE gift, and she had refused to let Rachel immediately clean the paper. It was more fun, she declared, to leave it out for a day or two, and let it accumulate to the fullest on Christmas day, so people could kick it, trip over it, and bury themselves in it, ball it up and throw it at each other, and she had demonstrated, starting a paper fight that had lasted at least five minutes before Rachel's anxiety over their knocking over a tree or a candle had brought Kurt, at least, up short.

The three had settled down then, piling up together on the couch, and although Rachel had insisted that it was traditional, Santa Claus or no, to go to sleep early, the other two had vetoed her, staying on the couch watching Christmas shows into the early hours of morning. Somehow their attention had been diverted from television as they found themselves discussing the year overall, laughing quietly over the good times remembered, growing serious over the more painful memories that came up too. Their voices had grown softer and slower as time went on, and by the time they drifted off to sleep, none were sure who had dozed off first.

When Christmas morning dawned, the three of them were still sleeping, half sprawled over each other, on the couch, heads tilted awkwardly onto shoulders, arms and legs partly overlapping, hair tousled and strewn across others' faces, and yet despite the uncomfortable appearance this presented, they did not stir. Christmas would come on its own time for them, and however cramped and stiff they might be in the morning, for now, there was peace in their togetherness, in an all together different way than there would be when awakened.

The end


End file.
